DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Fan-Atic, v. 2, issue 2, whole no. 5, September 1941

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Fan-Atic, v. 2, issue 2, whole no. 5, September 1941

Page 15

"THE QUEST THAT FAILED"
(Continued)

Bradford sounded dubious, but his grandmother who was staying with the family while Pappa Bradford was away, gave the trip the double-o and Jenkins was very happy. The grocer could tell that by the way he sprinted out of the store. It was ten minutes before Jenkins could bum a ride across town to Gilbert's domain. ((We're sorry, but we made a typographical error back there. It should read: "It was ten minutes before Jenkins could catch a ride across town..." Thankee.)) Slowly, he crept into the Great Gilbert's house and the house was empty! Except for one sound; the gentle snoring of a resting genius. Jenkins smiled grimly; there's nothing more pleasing than to hear a sooperman wake up suddenly. He grasped a cup, partially filled it with water, and crept into Gilbert's room. The cool water trickling down his face must have reminded Gilbert of the second Deluge or something, cause he woke up quite happy. Jenkins was disgusted; the usual curse-words and stuff weren't forthcoming. He had failed. 
"What in the devil?" quoth Gilbert. He blinked solemnly at the clock on the mantel which showed 10 o'clock, then turned over and grunted 'good-night'. Jenkins was frustrated; he had to keep Gilbert awake.
Slowly he leaned over and shouted, "We're going to Hagerstown in Bradford's car!" Gilbert got up.
The distance between Gilbert's house and Bradford's place of employment seemed all to short as the Dixie Duo discussed the trip and suggestions as to the meeting.
"Widner ... Rothman ... Warner .... ahhhhh", Gilbert sighed.
Bradford greeted us with a stern face. "The trip is off," he said. Both Gilbert and Jenkins said unprintable things, and then asked the reason.
"Well," Bradford said, "Grandmother called up my aunt, and my aunt said she didn't think the trip was advisable. So, it's off."
All knew that an appeal would be useless, so that was abandoned. But Gilbert and Jenkins would not stop. To a telephone they went to consult the Exotic Eastman. No dice. His family needed the car. That was out. "Heigh-ho," sang Gilbert, and off they went.
There was a long and peaceful walk in the broiling sun to a "Share Expenses" joint, only to be thwarted. They wanted $25 for the rental of the car, and that was too much. Not to be defeated without a terrific struggle, they set out for several friend's houses, in the lingering hope that perhaps one of them might consent to drive them up to Hagerstown. Long walks ... long walks ... a hot sun ... walk, walk, walk! Gilbert's long legs could take it, but Jenkins began faltering. He even started panting. But did they give up? No, they kept on. Tramp, tramp, walk; no luck. All of their friends had to use the cars or sumpin was wrong everywhere. Bus reates were too high; train rates were too high, and hitch-hiking was out of the question for time was the essential.
At three o'clock Jenkins and Gilbert ended up at the Jenkins mansion and both sat panting on the front porch. A cool breeze essayed to cross the hot porch, but decided not to at the last moment. All was futility. And then Bradford rolled up in his car, a 1940 Chevrolet.
"Les make an appeal to his Grandmother," panted Jenkins, wild-eyed but hopeful.
When we arrived at Bradford's, his brother met us and quoted, "It's no use. Grandmother called up my aunt and my aunt asked my uncle and he says we can't go."
Gilbert swooned. Jenkins fumbled around for a suitable adjective to describe such aunts. Bradford's brother begged, "let's go swimming."
The two frustrated members of the Camp went swimming to forget their woes. They were the crush. They were the defeat.
If they had been knights of old, they would have cast aside their armor and turned to a monastery. But being modern, they cast aside the gloom and went swimming.
They were all wet. But not satisfied. Amen.

Saving...

"THE QUEST THAT FAILED" (Continued) Bradford sounded dubious, but his grandmother who was staying with the family while Pappa Bradford was away, gave the trip the double-o and Jenkins was very happy. The grocer could tell that by the way he sprinted out of the store. It was ten minutes before Jenkins could bum a ride across town to Gilbert's domain. ((We're sorry, but we made a typographical error back there. It should read: "It was ten minutes before Jenkins could catch a ride across town..." Thankee.)) Slowly, he crept into the Great Gilbert's house and the house was empty! Except for one sound; the gentle snoring of a resting genius. Jenkins smiled grimly; there's nothing more pleasing than to hear a sooperman wake up suddenly. He grasped a cup, partially filled it with water, and crept into Gilbert's room. The cool water trickling down his face must have reminded Gilbert of the second Deluge or something, cause he woke up quite happy. Jenkins was disgusted; the usual curse-words and stuff weren't forthcoming. He had failed. "What in the devil?" quoth Gilbert. He blinked solemnly at the clock on the mantel which showed 10 o'clock, then turned over and grunted 'good-night'. Jenkins was frustrated; he had to keep Gilbert awake. Slowly he leaned over and shouted, "We're going to Hagerstown in Bradford's car!" Gilbert got up. The distance between Gilbert's house and Bradford's place of employment seemed all to short as the Dixie Duo discussed the trip and suggestions as to the meeting. "Widner ... Rothman ... Warner .... ahhhhh", Gilbert sighed. Bradford greeted us with a stern face. "The trip is off," he said. Both Gilbert and Jenkins said unprintable things, and then asked the reason. "Well," Bradford said, "Grandmother called up my aunt, and my aunt said she didn't think the trip was advisable. So, it's off." All knew that an appeal would be useless, so that was abandoned. But Gilbert and Jenkins would not stop. To a telephone they went to consult the Exotic Eastman. No dice. His family needed the car. That was out. "Heigh-ho," sang Gilbert, and off they went. There was a long and peaceful walk in the broiling sun to a "Share Expenses" joint, only to be thwarted. They wanted $25 for the rental of the car, and that was too much. Not to be defeated without a terrific struggle, they set out for several friend's houses, in the lingering hope that perhaps one of them might consent to drive them up to Hagerstown. Long walks ... long walks ... a hot sun ... walk, walk, walk! Gilbert's long legs could take it, but Jenkins began faltering. He even started panting. But did they give up? No, they kept on. Tramp, tramp, walk; no luck. All of their friends had to use the cars or sumpin was wrong everywhere. Bus reates were too high; train rates were too high, and hitch-hiking was out of the question for time was the essential. At three o'clock Jenkins and Gilbert ended up at the Jenkins mansion and both sat panting on the front porch. A cool breeze essayed to cross the hot porch, but decided not to at the last moment. All was futility. And then Bradford rolled up in his car, a 1940 Chevrolet. "Les make an appeal to his Grandmother," panted Jenkins, wild-eyed but hopeful. When we arrived at Bradford's, his brother met us and quoted, "It's no use. Grandmother called up my aunt and my aunt asked my uncle and he says we can't go." Gilbert swooned. Jenkins fumbled around for a suitable adjective to describe such aunts. Bradford's brother begged, "let's go swimming." The two frustrated members of the Camp went swimming to forget their woes. They were the crush. They were the defeat. If they had been knights of old, they would have cast aside their armor and turned to a monastery. But being modern, they cast aside the gloom and went swimming. They were all wet. But not satisfied. Amen.